


take the long way home

by miraphora



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crash Landing, F/M, Fever, Lizards, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Battle of Scarif, Rating May Change, Sharing a Bed, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Tatooine, i wasn't joking about adding that as a tag, maslow's hierarchy, self-indulgent fix-it, slightly gratuitous wound descriptions bc i'm a ghoul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-10-31 22:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10909149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraphora/pseuds/miraphora
Summary: Rescue, the rebel ship swooping low, the unasked-for hatch lowering to scoop them from the jaws of death as the obscene roundel of the Death Star rose on the horizon, had not brought peace. Just another fight.





	1. rescue

**Author's Note:**

> I was reading today that there was an alternate ending that was never filmed where Jyn and Cassian are rescued by a rebel ship before the Death Star fires on Scarif. They meet up with Leia's ship and escape in a pod when that ship is seized by Vader. A rabid plot bunny seized me and hasn't let go yet, so I'm going to ride it out and see where it goes. This may end up being a little derivative because I'm essentially working Jyn and Cass into the scaffolding of A New Hope, but I'm hoping it serves as a good base for developing their relationship. I know there's a fic out there where Jyn and Cass are prisoners on the Death Star and get rescued along with Leia (It's a good fic, Bront), but I haven't seen this particular fic yet, so here's hoping I've got some original territory still to explore.

The surreal lethargy that had overtaken her as Krennic's body slumped at the top of the tower was fading under building urgency. Rescue--the rebel ship swooping low, the unasked-for hatch lowering to scoop them from the jaws of death as the obscene roundel of the Death Star rose on the horizon--had not brought peace. Just another fight. 

Cassian had kept her reeled in tight against his side, half for support and half, she thought, because he couldn't help himself. From the moment she'd met him, he'd been touching her, holding her back, supporting her. She hadn't known him long enough to tell whether it was just a quirk of his personality, whether he invaded every being's space so thoroughly, but it seemed like odd behavior for a spy or an assassin. The alternative was that it was only her, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. 

The ship flickered into hyperspace at the exact same moment as another, longer shuttle, aligned on the same trajectory. Behind them, Jyn knew, the Rebel fleet that had swept to their rescue was being dismantled by the arrival of the Death Star and its support vessels. It was a lot of lives to reckon with, but she had seen cities decimated by the deadly green glow of her father's perfect monster. It wouldn't be long before it was turned toward entire planets. She had never calculated those sorts of costs; the Partisans had always waged their battles on a more localized scale--some in the Rebellion might say a petty scale--but she thought it had to be worth it. 

The shuttle had no medic to tend the ragtag bunch of survivors on board. They would drop back into normal space soon, to hail the other ship, a cruiser belonging to a princess, if that could be believed. Jyn had already scanned the survivors with a critical eye, and seen none of the faces she had hoped to see. She stayed at Cassian's side, realizing she had nowhere else to go. 

He deserved her support. He had clawed his way back from death to her side, after all. 

His head was rested against hers, and she could feel how clammy his skin was. She didn't know what it had cost him to come back to her, and wasn't sure it was a price she was prepared for him to pay. Not on her account. 

A part of her remembered hating him, mere days ago, and resenting the part he had played in her father's death. Time had been compressed since they scraped her off the surface of Wobani. The hate seemed very distant, faded under the weight of the lives of the men he had brought to her, and the chances he had taken with her. She had seen now the inner workings of his Rebellion and knew how little influence he had had on the outcome of the events on Eadu. 

Jyn tilted her head, glancing around curiously as the ship's sounds changed infinitesimally. 

"Sublights kicking in," Cassian murmured, lips near enough to her temple that his shallow breaths stirred her hair. "We'll dock with the Princess' ship, transfer wounded and regroup." 

"There's no way we're getting away clean," she replied, doubtful and already considering her options. 

He didn't answer except to turn his face a bit, forehead pressed to her temple, and hiss a slight breath of pain as they strained against the seat webbing for a moment with the shuttle's changing velocity. The dampeners weren't anything like diplomatic vessels on a troop shuttle. 

She put a cautious hand on his thigh, one of the few places she thought she could be sure he wasn't hurt, and squeezed gently, trying to be reassuring. She thought her first move would be to find this princess and make sure the plans were being treated as a priority. But Cassian needed a medbay--he really needed about a week in a bacta tank but she could feel a clenching certainty at the back of her neck that they were being pursued, and there wouldn't be time or safety enough for that. 

"Let's get you up. Want you to get into whatever they call a medbay as soon as the hatch opens." 

He gave her a look she couldn't read, his eyes hooded. "I'm good." 

"Like hell you are." 

A slight smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Where are you going?" 

She looked away, settling his arm securely over her shoulder and tucking herself against his good side, feeling stubborn. "The bridge, if I can find it." 

She felt his slow nod. "I’m with you, then." 

She bit her lip, hard, the vicious edge of pain distracting her from the ache in her shoulders and the weight of him against her. "Fine." 

*** 

There was still enough of a battle pitch thrumming through the energy of the ship that no one gave them more than a passing glance or barked directions to the medbay as they made their way through the corridors. One medic, en route back to the ship they'd left, stopped short at sight of Cassian and muttered dark imprecations in her direction, smacking her hand away long enough to administer hyposprays for who knew what. Cassian sagged a little heavier against her in reaction to whatever it was, before gathering himself with a bitten-off curse and an abbreviated wave of thanks as the medic kept going. It was battlefield triage on a level Jyn wasn't familiar with, and she almost laughed hysterically at the entire production. One of the capsules must have been a painkiller though, because the lines around Cassian's mouth eased, just a little. 

Cassian was the only reason she found the bridge--if she had sent him to the medbay, she would have had to lie or threaten her way there, and there wasn't time for that. 

Urgency kept pounding in her temples in strict counterpoint to a purely mundane headache. 

Raised voices spilled into the corridor outside the bridge as the door hissed open and shut to expel and absorb frantic personnel. Jyn glanced up sidelong at Cassian and saw his face sharpen intently, alertness burning through a bit of the haze of the drugs. 

"Princess, I know that your compassion does you credit, but we shouldn't have answered their hail! We are doubtless pursued, and the intel we carry must be handled with the highest priority!" 

"Commander, I am in full agreement on the latter, but I will not abandon our wounded." 

Jyn got her first glimpse of the woman, this princess, as she hauled Cassian into the bridge. The woman was no taller than her--shorter, if anything--but with an elaborate hairstyle that nearly compensated for it. Like Mon Mothma, she favored flowing white gowns, and Jyn wondered darkly if all politicians wore white because they had other hands in play to wear the blood of their ill deeds. 

Krennic had worn white as well. 

The heated argument cut short as the figures became aware of their uninvited guests. The princess's eyes widened fractionally at the sight of Cassian, and Jyn supposed it was no surprise that he would be recognized. Maybe that would make this easier. 

"Captain Andor," the woman said after a quick moment during which she pivoted smoothly from argument to this compassion the commander had accused her of. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you've made it back to us." 

She sounded sincere, but Jyn had no baseline to measure it against. 

"Your Highness," he acknowledged, and only Jyn suspected the effort it took for his voice to be that clear and even-toned. 

She flexed her fingers against his side, wishing for a moment she could do more. 

The woman's dark brown eyes turned to her, assessing. That was an expression Jyn was more prepared to deal with. 

"You must be Jyn Erso." If her tone was anything to go by, she hadn't decided what she thought about that fact. 

"Last I checked," Jyn responded, needled by the woman's cool reserve. She had to remind herself firmly that she needed something from this polished bureaucrat. 

Something that might have been a grin sparked across the princess' face, and her posture shifted subtly. Cassian was a silent presence at her side, but he wasn't interfering, yet. 

"We received your plans," the princess informed her, watchful. 

Jyn tried not to look as relieved as she felt. "You won't have had time to look at them, but I can assure you that your commander is correct. Getting them safely to your Rebellion is the only priority." 

"And I have every intention of doing that. Your part in this is done." The woman's expression gentled very slightly, her head tilting. "The fight is in other hands now." 

Cassian shifted at her side, and she squeezed his hip again. This woman didn't understand. The fight wouldn't be over until that thing was destroyed. 

"There's no way these ships have escaped Scarif without being traced. Too many lives were offered up to secure those plans, to trust them to one ship and one courier. We should make copies, and secure the data. I've seen how your Rebellion operates when there's no hard evidence." Jyn clenched her jaw quickly, at the resolve forming on the other woman's face. "The archive is gone. There won't be another chance. You have to understand that!" 

The princess smiled tightly, and Jyn bristled, reading condescension in it. "The data will make it to the Alliance. I have already set the operation in motion. Duplicating the plans, risking them falling back into the Empire's hands, isn't worth the price. I understand your passion, but we have it under control." She glanced at the way Jyn's hand had clutched at Cassian's side, and hid a smile that Jyn resented. "You should take Captain Andor to the medbay." 

It was gentle, but not a suggestion. Even Jyn recognized an order, when given. 

She changed tacks, acknowledging a lost cause, and already formulating a backup plan. "You're right." 

It was so uncharacteristic that she could feel Cassian tensing beside her, but she urged him to turn, and he followed as she left the bridge. 

They had already been in normal space for too long. She hauled Cassian into the first side corridor she found with a data console, leaning him against the wall with a quick, dark glance. He was watching her narrowly. 

"What are you doing?" he demanded softly, as she started slicing into the ship's systems. 

She shot him another dark glance. "Stealing the plans. Again." 

He leaned forward, expression inscrutable, but didn't move to stop her. She wondered if his instinct to follow orders was running up against the instinct that had made him go rogue with her, and which way he would go this time. If she'd had any sense at all, she would have taken him to the medbay over his protests and left him there. 

"Your princess is wrong. She's probably got more guts than most of the council, but she's wrong about this," Jyn explained, even though she'd never before felt compelled to justify her reasons to someone else. 

"I know." 

The quiet certainty in his voice stopped her for a moment, and she tore her eyes away from what she was doing to study him. Worry creased her brow, at the sickly pallor of his skin and the way he slumped. She revised her plan to include a frantic raid of the medbay, if she could find it. Whatever that passing medic had given him wasn't making enough of a dent. 

He didn't offer further comment, and she didn't know how to respond to his agreement. Stealing the plans for a second time was easier. The data transferred quickly to the stick she swiped as she left the bridge. Cassian hadn't even twitched when she'd done it, though she knew he'd seen. 

"That Star Destroyer is going to catch us, and I don't plan on being here when it happens. We don't have a lot of time," she muttered, tapping impatient fingers against the console. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but she glanced at him again, testing at his boundaries. "You with me?" 

His eyes were dark and calm on hers. It looked too much like acceptance. "All the way." 

A crack appeared momentarily in her focus, and she glared at him. "Don't you dare let me get you killed." 

"Hasn't happened yet." The wry smile, halfway to a grimace of pain, got lost in the corner of his lips. 

She spent too much time staring at his mouth. At first it was because he was always lying. Now... Now it was because he kept telling her things she wanted to hear, and they sounded like the truth. It was heady stuff, and she couldn't afford to get used to it. 

A little voice in the back of her head that sounded distressingly like her father chided her. _When are you going to trust, Stardust?_

She took a hard breath to steady herself, ignoring that voice pointedly. Plenty of time later to deal with ghosts. She yanked the data stick from the port, tucking it into a pocket of her frayed vest, and looked Cassian over critically. The contingencies on her plan were ticking down in the rhythm of the pounding urgency in the back of her head. 

The blaster burn on his side was cauterized, but would need a bacta patch and cleaning. She didn't want to think of what she would do if his spine was injured. She didn't think he could have made it to her at the top of the tower, if that had been the case, but it wouldn't be the first time he had surprised her. Cracked ribs she could handle. She felt the persistent ache in her shoulders, and the dull roar of pain from the gash in her leg, all making themselves known during her inventory. 

She grimaced fiercely and propped herself back under Cassian's arm. "Let's go." 

Medbay first, to beg, borrow, or steal what she needed. 

She felt the tremor of arrested motion a moment later, the whine of engine torque fighting a tractor beam. Cassian's arm tightened around her shoulder and he straightened, taking more of his weight. 

She amended her plans quickly. Medbay, then escape pod, and a prayer to Chirrut's Force of Others that they were close enough to an inhabited rock that wasn't Scarif to land safely.


	2. wound care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The planet they landed on was definitely a rock. Jyn was fairly certain it was also inhabited, from the glimpse she'd caught through the narrow viewport of the pod as they hurtled through the atmosphere. Cassian hadn't done much of anything at that point except white-knuckle his restraints and close his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but I wanted to go ahead and get it out while I figure out where this is headed next.

The planet they landed on was definitely a rock. Jyn was fairly certain it was also inhabited, from the glimpse she'd caught through the narrow viewport of the pod as they hurtled through the atmosphere. Cassian hadn't done much of anything at that point except white-knuckle his restraints and close his eyes. 

The planet, unfortunately, was also a teeming desert. Unlike Jedha, though, the standard temperature reading outside the pod was in the forties. Jyn stared impassively out the little viewport at an endless sea of sand and dunes, her hand propped against the cool interior. There was a rustle of movement behind her, and she turned to find Cassian rummaging through the sacks of pilfered medical supplies she had stolen before their hurried escape. His jaw was tightly clenched, and his hair was damp with sweat. 

He jerked his head toward her, then winced immediately. "Check the storage panels. A cruiser like that, pods should have some survival gear. Water filtration. If we're lucky, maybe even an evap." 

"I know." She didn't know why she was defaulting to defense. It wasn't his fault she'd jettisoned them onto a lifeless rock where they were just as likely to die as they had been an hour ago. The adrenaline she had been coasting on for what felt like an entire day cycle was burning out, leaving her shaky and doubting her decisions, which she couldn't afford. 

He shot her a quelling look, but didn't say anything. He set out a bacta patch cut to a size for sucking wounds, a small knife, other supplies for first aid. She looked back at the panels, prying at latches and investigating their contents. The air in the pod would be good for another few hours, but she knew they couldn't stay. 

For a miracle, there was water, in canisters whose weight she knew they'd resent after a few hours of desert hiking. They wouldn't live that long without them though. She scavenged quicker after that discovery. 

"Jyn." 

His voice was low and intense, and tugged her around like she was on the end of a tether. He was slumped against the wall, shirt unbuttoned, half off of one shoulder. He was like some macabre parody of a romantic holovid, with the stubble dark on his jaw and his lips turned down and the charred edges of the blaster wound seared to the fabric of his shirt, and she had to swallow back a hysterical laugh. The edge of a squeak emerged despite her efforts, and his brow furrowed before clearing with sudden comprehension. 

They exchanged a long look, before he dragged a hand over his face with a groan and a mumbled curse she didn't understand. "I need your help with this." He swallowed hard, and she felt a twinge of guilt. "It's stuck." 

Her knees bumped against his as she came to his side, and she was more aware of the way their space intermingled than she had been earlier. She looked him over, leaned down and inspected the wound, touching at the edges where the cloth was stuck. The wound was shallow, but seeing the way the thin rim of fat beneath his smooth brown skin had seared and the crusted blood made her a little light-headed. She'd never had trouble with first aid before. She didn't like to think that it was because it was _him_ that she was suddenly struggling. 

She swallowed tensely, and looked up at him from under her lashes, as she pulled his other sleeve back up his shoulder. "It's not melted, just stuck from--blood." It was a lot more than blood. "Must be organic fibers and not synth." 

He nodded, but she wasn't sure if he was agreeing or confirming or just responding to her voice. She took one of the water canisters before he could protest, and poured a thin stream over the edges of the wound, loosening dried blood and flesh and fabric. 

He caught her wrist with warning pressure. "Don't waste it." 

"You're not a waste!" she snapped without thinking. 

His fingers flexed against her skin, but he released her without saying anything else. She capped the canister anyway. She had only needed a little moisture to make this next part easier. 

"This is going to hurt," she said, unnecessarily. 

He huffed a slight laugh, then swore when she immediately pulled the fabric away from the wound in one steady gesture. Blood and fluids began to seep down his side, but he stopped her from going at it with one of the wipes. 

"Let it bleed for a second. It's filthy." 

She watched his throat as he swallowed back discomfort, trailed her eyes back up to his. He had that look on his face again. The one he'd had when he pulled her to his side, right after she'd sent the plans on the tower. She still didn't know what to do with it. 

She dragged her eyes away, grimaced at the blood soaking the mesh of the pod, and cleaned the wound quickly. The urgency from before, on the cruiser, was still pounding, but muted under her exhaustion. Cassian hissed a breath when she accidentally tugged at a raw edge of the burn, and she made a soft sound, almost a hum, focusing on peeling off the backing of the bacta patch. 

His skin radiated heat against her fingertips as she applied the patch, but it didn't feel like fever, yet. Just him. She eased back, waving a hand at his shirt. "Button that back up. Don't want you burning to any more of a crisp out there." 

He tilted his head up, watching her intently. She stilled, as he reached out and curled his hand behind her knee to stop her from backing away. "You're in more danger of that than me. How bad is your leg?" 

She grimaced dismissively. "It's nothing. A scratch." 

His fingertips dug lightly into the back of her knee, then slipped away. Before she could stop him, he'd grabbed the edges of the jagged tear in her fatigues and ripped it open wider, revealing the gash—a ragged inch-wide and inches long divot out of the flesh of her thigh that was still oozing blood. 

He shot her a dark look from under lowered brows. "Your pants are soaked with blood. You get sand in this and it will get infected and we're a long way from a medbay. Don't be foolish."

She was too busy hissing at the burn of air on the wound and grimacing at him to say anything clever in response. He tore the fabric a little more, getting enough room to clean and apply a bandage. 

"We're wasting time," she muttered, as he was easing a patch over the skin, the proximity of his fingertips to the inside of her thigh making her nervous. 

He shot her an ironic glance at that, and she shut her mouth with a resentful click of teeth. 

When he finished with the bandage, he slid his hand down her leg and she took a sharp step back, shaking him off with a glare. "Stop." 

"You were limping on the tower. Your ankle?" 

"Just the pound of flesh missing from my leg. Cassian, we need to move," she growled, impatiently. 

He took a deep, experimental breath and gritted his teeth, reaching for the hypospray. She had swiped boxes of bone stabilizer, painkillers, antibiotics, more concerned with being able to keep them moving than about leaving supplies to be captured with the ship. There was also a box of stims, but she didn’t think they were smart to take after as much blood as she’d lost, or in the temperatures they were about to be hiking through. She watched him load the hypo with a bone stabilizer for his ribs, then with another painkiller. It hadn’t been long enough for the second, but she wasn’t about to tell him that.

She turned back to the pack she had loaded with water and the other supplies. There was a reflective tarp for shelter, cordage, and a few other things she thought were worth carrying. She’d left the water filtration on the bench. She’d seen evaporators during their descent, and no large bodies of water to filter, enough to tell her bringing it would be a waste of space in the packs.

Cassian pressed a hand to her lower back and she stilled, then bit her lip as he jabbed her with the hypo. She tossed a glare at him as muscles she hadn’t even realized were hurting suddenly stopped, but he was unrepentant as he packed the remaining supplies away. He was a lot more alert than he’d been on the ship or at any other point so far, and it was making her suspicious. She shouldered the pack and leaned down to grab the strap of his, shaking it to see the box of stims. It had been opened. 

She jerked her eyes up to his angrily, burning even hotter at the bland look on his face. “It’s hot enough to boil a Hutt out there. Your kriffing heart is going to explode.”

He eased the pack onto his shoulders, wincing despite the drugs, and reached out to touch her jaw. She froze. His gaze was level as he stroked his hand down her throat to brush along the cord of her kyber necklace. “You’ve been holding me up for hours, Jyn. Let me carry my own weight for awhile.”

He slapped his hand down on the hatch release, and the desert air rushed in like a roasting oven, stealing her breath before she could reply. A pained grunt escaped him when he dropped down to the sand, but he didn’t waver as he reached back to give her a hand.

“And pull up your scarf. It’ll protect your face.”

She eyed his hand, then sighed into the furnace and pulled her scarf back up to cover her hair and the back of her neck. She tangled her fingers with his, squeezing, and this time she was sure it was because she couldn’t help herself.


	3. shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The scarf over her head, the water in her pack, the silent reliance of the man beside her, were the only reasons she hadn’t collapsed yet. 
> 
> They needed shelter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot? What plot?? And yet, no porn.

The heat was merciless, and they weren’t dressed for it. Jyn’s black fatigues and vest absorbed every thermal unit the twin suns creeping through the sky put out and baked them down into her flesh and bone. Her boots, tightly-laced as they were, couldn’t withstand the inexorable advance of the sand, and it ground into her ankles and crept beneath the tongue of her boots to abrade her shins. The scarf over her head, the water in her pack, the silent reliance of the man beside her, were the only reasons she hadn’t collapsed yet.

Cassian had ridden the crest of the stims as long as he could, but they had only made it a few klicks or so before he had begun to lean on her again. The last time she had pulled them to a staggering halt for water, she’d slid her fingers inside the drooping collar of his shirt, feeling the sun-scorched heat of his skin, and the thready hammering of his pulse. He hadn’t managed to give himself a heart attack yet, but she didn’t like their odds of evading heat stroke if they went much longer without shelter.

His eyes were narrowed against the piercing light reflecting off the sand, and while he was more resistant to the sun, she could see the reddening along the back of his neck, roughening the creases beside his eyes and along his mouth. They needed shade.

The sand beneath their feet had been thinning incrementally over the last while, until Jyn registered that they were on more of a hardpack surface. She tilted her head, angling her gaze up searchingly beneath the fringe of her scarf, and paused a moment, Cassian stumbling at her side, nearly bowling her over. She resettled his arm around her shoulders without comment--they had barely spoken since the initial communication to negotiate direction after leaving the pod. The desert was too eager to steal the moisture from between careless lips.

Jyn had to squint to be sure of what she was seeing. She had kept the suns over their shoulders out of the vague impression that she had spotted moisture farms in this direction during their descent, but as the afternoon had progressed, she had begun to lose hope that she hadn’t sent them walking deeper into the desert and closer to their deaths. A bone white hump rose from the hard barren earth before them, surrounded at intervals by the spindly protrusion of evaporator units. She couldn’t see any obvious signs of droid movement or inhabitants at this distance, but that didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t matter, one way or the other. Cassian could barely walk anymore, and they’d die in this desert if they didn’t get out of the heat. 

It was more difficult this time to get Cassian moving again. His head hung low, and his weight listed heavily into her. He was a slight man, lean and wiry with muscle, but that didn’t change the fact that he had a good 20 centimeters and a few stone on her.

It wasn’t like she could leave him, in sight of shelter. She gritted her teeth, hauled him closer over her center of gravity, and slogged forward, one step at a time, ignoring her own aches and pains.

***

The farm had even more of an aura of abandonment as they neared it. There didn’t appear to be any signs of violence from cursory examination, and the door, set down below the surface at the end of a sunken stairway, had no markers of illness. It was a harsh world--Jyn supposed sometimes people must just give up and try to move on to better lives.

The relief from the suns in the shadow of the recessed entryway was almost immediate. Jyn pushed Cassian up against the sandstone wall, ignoring the barely-vocalized noise of agony that escaped him. There _was_ something wrong with his back--she’d noticed his posture tightening as the day progressed, even as he had become less aware of his surroundings, but she couldn’t do anything about it until she got them inside. 

There was a security panel beside the door, but nothing fancy. The sort of domestic homesteading setup meant to keep the elements out more than intruders. She dug in the top of her boot for the utility knife she kept there, knocking granules of sand loose against her pants with a grimace, and pried at the panel, exposing the wiring beneath. She didn’t have any of her slicing tools, had no way of testing if there was still backup power in the wiring she needed, but there had been a faint glow from the standby light before she loosened the panel, so she had to hope.

She was getting by on a lot of hope lately, and it made her nervous.

Cassian slid down the wall beside her, groaning in pain and a breathless string of complaint escaping him in a language she didn’t understand. It sounded natural in his accent--some localized human language, likely. Jyn had never bothered much with other human languages, Basic sufficing for most everyday communication. Huttese, though, Bocce, a smattering of Durese. Those were useful, in the Outer Rim. 

Cassian’s head lolled, dark eyes fluttering open and his gaze roaming without seeming to catch on anything. Jyn stripped two wires, keeping half an eye on him, not liking the unfocused way he was staring or the prickling rash she could see spreading on the back of his neck. 

The wires in her hands sparked, and the door slid back into the recess. Stale air wafted out into the oven of the desert, and Jyn peered into the dim cautiously while tucking the wires away. No light, no sound of occupation, bare walls and no furnishings except the protrusion of surfaces sculpted as one piece with the dwelling.

Jyn crouched at Cassian’s side and tugged his blaster free of his holster, taking the opportunity to rest her palm against the too-warm skin under his beard-scruffed jaw, feeling his pulse, and the heat that was emanating now even in the shade. It was hard to tell if he was feverish or only overheated. Either way, he struggled to focus on her, head tilting listlessly. He made a soft sound that did odd things to her own pulse, and turned his face into her touch. 

“Stay here,” she murmured unnecessarily. He wasn’t going anywhere under his own power anytime soon. 

She slipped into the still cool darkness of the homestead with the blaster pointed upward, eyes wide to catch the light from the doorway. She would clear the structure, get a feel for the layout and whether it might be safe to shelter in until planetary nightfall. There had to be a night cycle of decent length, she thought, as the suns had been progressing toward the horizon at a steady rate all afternoon, if at a slightly oblique latitude. 

The broad low-ceilinged corridor stretched ahead of her, ending in another door that opened with pressure on the sensor plate on the wall. Another waft of stale air from the dark interior. Judging by the functionality of power cells, the place couldn’t have been abandoned for more than a few years at most, and probably less than that. The air didn’t smell...bad. Just a little empty.

Jyn eased deeper into the dwelling, blaster still ready, but relaxing a bit. She still saw no signs of habitation. Corridors stretched off of this interior space, like a lizard warren, and she ducked her head into the ones that stood open. Sleeping rooms, possibly. Two of them had low duracrete platforms roughly the size of sleeping pads extending out from the sloped walls. Another corridor behind another door stretched back into darkness pierced by a narrow shaft of light from above--a skylight probably. She’d do a circuit of the structure when she had Cassian settled, see how many ingress and egress points there were to the surface.

It seemed long-deserted, safe, secure enough for now. It was certainly a good 10 degrees cooler than the surface. She started to turn away from the corridor that stretched down to the skylight when a frantic skittering echoed off the walls around her and something heavy and sinuous scrambled over the toes of her boots. She bit off a shriek and staggered back, swinging the blaster down toward the ground and turning her head back and forth searchingly, heart hammering.

Two pairs of hindclaws followed by hairy forked tails scuttled into the shadows of another empty room, and Jyn stopped herself short of squeezing off a shot just out of sheer aggravation. She couldn’t afford to waste the charges left on the blaster over vermin. 

Even if they had given her a scare.

She bit her lip savagely and breathed out through her nose sharply. Huttese was good for letting off steam, and she snarled a particularly filthy swear just to get it out of her system.

The shuff of other footsteps than her own echoed up the passage toward the entrance, and there was a soft grunt. She swung her head around and barely suppressed a growl. Cassian.

He sagged against the sloping wall, peering at her from under the fringe of his bangs, and even from here she could tell he was only upright through force of will. “Jyn--”

The soft gasp of his voice was threaded with pain and concern. It was the only reason she didn’t yell at him.

She thumbed on the blaster’s safety and tucked it into the waistband of her pants at the small of her back, and returned to Cassian’s side just as he started to slide down the wall again as his knees gave out. 

“You’re a damned idiot, Cassian Andor.”

“Thought--thought you screamed,” he breathed, his lips pressed to her temple. 

She could tell he was trying to be helpful, struggling to keep his feet, but she felt the bone-deep flinch in him when she put her arm around his back, and the way his steps faltered. His breath was hot against her skin, and she could feel the heat of him even through his salt-crusted shirt. Fever. 

She shook her head at him, lips compressed, and struggled to get him back to one of the sleeping rooms. The heat of the desert was hovering around the open door, rebuffed by the heavier cool air below. He made it to the edge of one of the platforms, and collapsed heavily onto his side as soon as she had him seated. 

Jyn grabbed him by the ankles and swung his legs up on the platform, then struggled to haul his shoulders back and straighten him out so he was laying flat. She’d worry about getting a look at his back later. For now, she just wanted him still and quiet and resting.

She left him there and went to retrieve their packs from the entryway. She keyed the door shut from inside, though she considered for a moment leaving it open in the hopes that the lizards or whatever they had been would take the opportunity to escape. At some point she was going to have to sleep, and she didn’t relish the thought of waking up to something scaley in her face.

The corridor was dark as the inside of a bantha, and she dug around in one of the packs for a glow rod, feeling tired and thwarted. She had been running on fumes for so long that her mind was swimming, and the exhaustion was so profound that it felt like it had suppressed even the pain she should be feeling from her strained shoulders and her wound. At last cool light bloomed in her hand, and she shuffled back to the room where she’d left Cassian. 

She set the packs on a deep ledge along the wall by the platform, and the glow rod on the edge nearest Cassian. She wavered on her feet, focusing on breathing for a few moments, arms crossed and watching the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were shut, the glow casting deep shadows across the prominent bones of his face. She felt like she should be surprised that he had slipped into unconsciousness, but the level of trust they had established in so short a time was complete and extreme. Everything she knew about him suggested that he was competent, contained, deadly, distrustful, and yet he followed her like he was on a tether. It made her feel responsible, and that feeling terrified her.

Jyn Erso left a trail of destruction in her wake and she knew it.

She wanted to sit down more than anything, but that feeling of responsibility drove her back into motion. She went through the packs, setting the empty water canisters aside in a line, shook the two remaining--still full. A third, nearly empty but still sloshing, she set at Cassian’s side. She had a flash of vague memory as she leaned over him, and instinct more than anything had her stripping off one glove and resting the back of her hand against his forehead gently. 

The memory sparked brighter in the back of her mind--the apartment on Coruscant, soft bedding heaped around her, the sickly sticky sweltering discomfort of fever, and so vividly that she could feel the echoes of it even now, well over a decade and a few lifetimes later, the tender touch of her mother’s hand against her clammy skin, soothing. Jyn swallowed against a sudden tightness in her throat, closing her eyes against the memory. A voice, faint and half-forgotten, humming. She realized as she opened her eyes again, catching the faint glint of Cassian watching her from glassy narrowed eyes, that it was her voice, scratching and hesitant in her throat. 

Jyn took her hand away slowly, carefully, reaching for her usual impassive expression and feeling it settle like an ill-fitting garment. She ignored his stare, unbuttoning his shirt and checking the patch on his blaster wound. The bacta was dry, the flesh around the wound hot with his fever. She left his shirt open, letting the wound breathe while she turned her back on him to retrieve another patch from the packs. 

His breathing slowed again, as though whatever curiosity that had driven his eyes open was insufficient to fight off the exhaustion. He barely twitched when she smoothed the new patch over the burn, patting down the tacky edges to seal against his skin. Still acting half on instinct, Jyn continued to try to make him comfortable, wetting down a cloth bandage from the pack with the dregs from the third canister, and folding it down over his forehead, her mind churning through plans and needs and objectives.

They needed to get the Death Star plans to the Rebellion. So what they needed was to make it to a spaceport or settlement, anything large enough to support trade and a ship to steal. To do that, they needed more water or a faster way through the desert. For that, they needed to be able to travel. What it came down to was that Cassian needed to be mobile and for that she needed to break his fever.

So. Water. They needed water to live.

She was pragmatic enough to know that if she left him here, abandoned him in the cool, safe darkness of this derelict homestead, and took the last of the water and the supplies and made for civilization on her own, she was more likely to succeed and in better time.

It felt like a death sentence, like betrayal, like waiting overnight in a dark bunker with nothing but a flickering glow lamp and the slow drip of condensation, like being sixteen again with nothing but a blaster and a broken promise. She set the impulse carefully inside of the dark cave in her mind and shut the hatch on it soundly.

She wouldn’t entertain it again.

***

It didn’t occur to Jyn to be _proud_ when she managed to get two of the vaporators working, or when she found the generator, in a small inner courtyard with a solar array soaking up energy and depositing it in cells that would power the moisture extraction that might buy them more time. More chances. It didn’t occur to her to be proud, but she was a little smug.

The suns had sunk below the horizon like a pair of drunks making their way home from the cantina by the time she finally felt like she’d done all she could to keep them going. She had moved beyond exhaustion into a sort of capable delirium. Brightness flared in awkward coronas at the corners of her vision, and she stumbled over her own feet as she made her way down the steps into the darkness of the homestead. The glow from the sleeping room spilled out into the corridor, and she followed it like a beacon, sliding one hand along the wall. 

Cassian’s breathing was the only sound to break the silence. Every other breath caught with a shuddering hitch, and he had dragged the tarp over himself. She leaned one hip heavily against the side of the platform, steadying herself as she checked his temperature again. His skin was still dry and hot, but he shook with chills. She used the last of her energy to coax water into his mouth, to rewet the cloth on his forehead. She took a few ragged sips from the canister, knowing in a vague sort of way that she should check her own wound, should dig the protein gels out of the pack and suck one down. There was no energy left for that. 

She shakily set the canister back on the ledge near the glow rod, and eased herself down on the edge of the platform. She arranged the tarp over them, curled on her side, and turned her face against his shoulder. 

There was a second sleeping room, just across the hall, but it never occurred to her in her exhaustion to lay her body down anywhere but at Cassian’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I blame the lizards on the salad lizards thing.


	4. shooting star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She watched a flare of light like a falling star, its trail clear as it shot up into the sky. Her drifting mind fastened on this and she straightened suddenly with a snap, sitting on edge and staring hard at that quadrant of the sky. 
> 
> Stars didn’t fall upward.

Jyn woke restrained and with a dull panic thundering in her ears. 

She jerked her arms outward to break the hold on her, and rolled without thinking, right off the edge of the platform. There was a moment where she crouched along the floor, heartbeat echoing in her ears, before she pushed to her feet with a ragged breath, shaking off her disorientation and squinting in the light from the glow. The chemicals were fading, and the shadows in the room had grown. 

She backed up until she hit the ledge beside the platform, and rested her hip against it, trying to calm herself. Cassian was curled on his side, eyes shut tight, a deep furrow between his brows. He had his arms clutched against his chest, and she realized with a start that he’d been holding her.

She hissed a shaky breath, shoving her hands back through her hair, yanking the tie loose, and scraping the sweat-damp strands off the back of her neck. She was clammy with sweat from being tucked against his fever-hot body, but when she slipped close to the platform to press her hand against his forehead, into the crease of his neck, he was still dry, still burning up. 

Jyn frowned, considering her mental inventory of the medical supplies in the packs. Analgesics for pain, but she hadn’t checked to see if they were the sort that might reduce fever. It hadn’t occurred to her, back on the princess’ ship. She didn’t think it would _hurt_ , though, and he needed more water, as well, if she could get him awake long enough to swallow it.

She heaved a sigh, digging through the packs for the hypospray and an ampoule, careful to shove the box of stims deep into the bottom of the pack again. Those they sure as hell did not need presently. 

Cassian was talking in his sleep when she got closer, barely a breath of sound, and not in Basic in any case, but it seemed like a dangerous habit for a spy. She wondered idly if it was the fever, and worried to no good purpose that she couldn’t get a read on his temperature more precise than “too hot.” She’d already checked the medkit they’d taken from the pod, and there hadn’t been a thermometer or any sort of medscanner.

_You should complain to the princess at the quality of your escape when you get a chance._

She indulged the thought for a moment, the corner of her mouth curling into a wry grin as she shot Cassian full of painkillers. He barely twitched, but his eyes opened to narrow slits, shining in the glow. The lines in his face deepened, mouth drawing down unhappily, and whatever he murmured ended in a name, she thought, or an endearment.

Witnessing him in such a vulnerable and unguarded state made her uncomfortable, her chest twinging. But it didn’t stop her hands from smoothing his hair back gently, or keep her from cradling the curve of the back of his skull carefully as she tried to get him to drink. 

He made a stifled sound of distress when she poured too quickly, water spilling over the corner of his mouth. He coughed violently, and immediately cringed onto his side, one arm braced shakily, the other curling under his ribs, a chest-deep sound of pain forced out of him. Jyn cursed and set the canister aside, steadying him with a hand between his shoulderblades. He didn’t flinch from that touch the way he had earlier when she’d put her arm around him, so she thought his upper back might be less battered. 

“You’re alright. I’m sorry.” She bit hard at her lower lip, angry at herself, at him, at this damned desert and their circumstances. 

Surviving wasn’t easy. It was just work. And pain. 

He settled at last, breathing easier, stretched on his back again. She blew out a short breath, tugging the tarp back over him when a shivering moan escaped between his clenched teeth. If his ribs were cracked, the chills had to be agony. There was nothing she could do about it, and the fact that she cared despite this knowledge was making her twitchy like her skin was on too tight.

She backed away from the platform, grabbed her scarf from the ledge, and retreated from the room. 

***

Night had truly fallen in the desert. Twin moons, echoing the suns that had hounded their progress all day, hovered low in the sky. She had no idea how long she’d slept, or which direction the moons rose from. It was difficult to tell how long had passed.

The night air was cooler, and also thick with unexpected humidity. Jyn perched on the shallow steps, bad leg stretched to the side, careful to stay below the line of the sunken wall. She had no idea what sorts of predators, sentient and otherwise, roamed the desert, but if the world was this much cooler at night, nocturnal activity was likely to be higher. She wouldn’t make herself an easy target.

The number of things she didn’t know was staggering: what planet this was, what system they were in, how far they were to what passed for civilization on a world like this, how badly Cassian was hurt and his likelihood of survival or recovery given the extremely rudimentary first aid she was able to provide.

The only things she knew with certainty were that she had the plans to the Death Star. The ship that had been carrying them had been captured. And they were surely being sought by the Empire.

All she could do was work from what she knew. Survive. Deliver the plans to the Rebellion. She couldn’t think beyond that point.

Her gaze swept out along the stretch of stark desert she could see, leached of color by the monochromatic moonlight. Eerie mist was rising from the ground, though she couldn’t imagine where the moisture could be coming from. It explained how the moisture farms persisted, though.

She was glad she’d spent the time on the vaporators. It had been a risk, but worth it, in the end. She only hoped the same could be said for every other risk she was balancing.

Stillness, time to think--that was dangerous. She slipped her hand into the collar of her shirt, fishing out the kyber crystal and clutching it in her hand. It helped to erase the feel of Cassian’s skin from her fingertips, but the warmth of the crystal conjured less immediate ghosts. She had to assume Bodhi and Chirrut and Baze were dead. They hadn’t been on the transport that carried herself and Cassian away from the planet, and the space battle had turned into a rout. They might have escaped by other means...but the chances were slim. 

Jyn felt she had surely run out all of their chances, even as she kept stealing more. 

She had given up on luck, on hope, when they’d put her in the prison on Wobani. That had seemed like the end of the line for her--no plan, no chance of escape, no support, no one to miss her. And yet. Here she was. Stranded on an unknown planet with a Rebel spy who had tried to kill her father and then followed her into hell.

It might have been outrageous to think it was better than a prison cell and a labor camp, but she was free. Free and with options.

Even if the only real options were: survive, deliver the plans to the Rebellion.

***

She sat in the cool darkness for longer than she had intended, her alert tension fading over time as the humid air sank into her skin. Her mind drifted, and her gaze traced the stars, the horizon, half-aware. There was little planetary glow to interfere with the sky, and a rich tapestry of celestial bodies crowded together, some faintly tinted in the cold blue and red of planets and distant gas giants. It was restful. 

She watched a flare of light like a falling star, its trail clear as it shot up into the sky. Her drifting mind fastened on this and she straightened suddenly with a snap, sitting on edge and staring hard at that quadrant of the sky. 

Stars didn’t fall upward. 

She watched so long that she began to think she had imagined it, that her eyes had conjured a solution for her churning mind. But then, again, on a different trajectory, rising from the horizon where the suns had set: the glow of ship thrusters.

A spaceport.

There was no pronounced glow from a city of any size, but it might be the sort of place where smugglers were comfortable trading. Low light, low power, low profile to avoid notice from beyond the atmosphere or planetside surveillance. 

She could work with that. She’d been at home in that sort of place, once. 

Her dry lips curved with satisfaction, cracking, and she ran her tongue over the coppery hint of blood unthinkingly. If she could see ships taking off at this distance, without quadnocs, it had to be close. A day’s hike would be too much to hope, at the pace they had made that day, but maybe two, if they were lucky, if Cassian could walk, if they were careful with their water. Jyn didn’t think they’d happen across shelter like this again.

A lot of ifs, a lot of hope, a lot of chances. 

She licked at her lip again. She could make that work. She’d find a way to make it work.

***

When Jyn finally returned to the sleeping room she felt steadier than when she had left, anchored by an actionable plan, something she could do. She tended to the gash on her leg, cutting down a fresh patch to conserve bacta for Cassian’s burn, testing the edges of her wound for the heat or soreness of infection. So far, nothing but the ache of healing flesh. 

She swallowed down tasteless protein gel, more water, caring for her own needs with renewed determination. 

Cassian was deep in another bout of chills, his sharp jaw clenched against them, fighting even in his sleep. She wet another length of bandage, draping it around his throat, the skin hot and tight under her fingers. He turned into her touch again, like he had before, and she worried at the ragged skin of her lower lip. 

The thought of waking tangled in his arms again, tied down and trapped and disoriented, gave her pause. But the homestead was chill now, the heat of the desert above dispersed, and there was only the one blanket. It didn’t make sense to sleep anywhere else. And she had to monitor his fever.

It was sensible, logical, rational--not a single thing she ever claimed to be. 

It was also a lie.

***

The second and third times Jyn woke, she had to fight the instinct to lash out and break free. Each time, she lay still, letting her heart ramp down from panic to a more measured tempo. The third time was the worst--Cassian had tossed and shifted around, unable to find comfort in his delirium between the pain in his ribs and his back, and the tarp was tangled around them both. 

Jyn gritted her teeth and slowly worked her way free, resisting the urge to jab backwards with her elbows. Who would have thought a spy, even senseless with fever, would be clingy as a mynock on an exhaust coupling?

Each time, she got herself sorted, took the opportunity to coax more water between his lips, feel his temperature against the back of her hand. Tried to gauge if it had changed. Reminded herself that there was an entire dwelling, empty, free of his uncomfortable heat and vulnerability. Went right back to sleep, hovering carefully at his side.

The fourth time Jyn woke to darkness, Cassian’s body drenched with sweat and still as the dead beside her. She rolled towards him, fumbling until her fingertips encountered the edge of his jaw, tracing over to his mouth, and only the breath gusting over his slightly-parted lips reassured her that he was alive. She pushed herself upright and reached for the ledge, feeling for the packs, and dug around for another glow rod. 

There was an eerie hiss when the chemicals reacted and lit the room, and she whirled around, gripping the glow rod like a weapon. A reptilian head peeked over the indistinct hump of Cassian’s body, scaly jaw hinged open in threat. The kriffing thing was curled up on the damned platform between him and the wall. 

She couldn’t shoot it--it was too close to Cassian. She ground her teeth in annoyance and flung the glow rod at it with a shout. There was a flurry of movement and another prolonged hiss as it skittered away, off the end of the platform and out the door of the room, its claws catching on the tarp and dragging it halfway down the corridor. 

Jyn stomped after it, mad enough to spit and thinking about going lizard hunting in the dark, but stopped short at the door, reeling in the tarp and bundling it up into her arms instead. There was a soft sound behind her, and she turned on her heel, the cloth clutched against her chest suddenly feeling like a shield.

Cassian was propped up on one elbow, his mouth caught halfway between a grimace and curiosity, his hair strewn in lank tendrils across his face. He peered into the half-light at her. “Jyn?”

“There was a lizard,” she said shortly, which was not what she had meant to say.

The crease between his brows deepened in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, coming back to the platform and shaking out the tarp before folding it roughly into a blanket size. She ignored him watching her, as she draped it over his legs, and then reached out to push his hair back from his forehead and take his temperature in a motion that had become unthinking over the course of the night.

He went still under her hand.

“I think your fever’s broken finally. You aren’t as warm as you were, at least. How do you feel?” 

She started to take a step back, hesitated, then leaned over him, hand braced on the edge of the platform, to retrieve the glow rod before backing away and standing just out of reach. She set the glow on the ledge and reached up to wrap her fingers around the kyber crystal, mostly to keep her hands from getting any ideas about touching him again.

He was watching her, face still drawn with exhaustion, but his eyes were more alert than they had been since the stims wore off. “I feel…” He paused, frown deepening a bit. “I don’t think you want to know how I feel. I’ll live, though. I think.”

Humor? She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. His lips twitched. She felt baited, and refused to respond to it. 

“There’s more painkiller, but you should drink first. You’ve sweated through everything I poured into you.” She checked the canisters, finding the last only half-full. 

His eyes were narrowed, fixed on the line of empty canisters on the ledge. The skin over his cheeks had thinned with tension. “Jyn...how much water is left?”

“Enough,” she said vaguely, holding the lip of the canister steady near his mouth. “Drink.”

He reared his head back with a wince, closing his hand over hers. “How much?” He bit the words off tightly, and she stared pointedly at his hand where it overlapped hers, refusing to back away.

“Enough,” she repeated, stubbornly. And when he opened his mouth to argue: “I rigged two vaporators to collect overnight. There’s some kind of mist phenomenon here when the temperature drops. It’s _fine_ , Cassian. Now _drink_.”

He looked like he was considering taking the canister from her, and she crooked one brow wordlessly until he gave in and drank. She had the option of watching his mouth or meeting the pointed, piercing stare he was giving her, and so she looked at the wall. His fingertips on her wrist signaled her to pull away, and she stepped back, taking a swig for herself, unconsciously licking a droplet that had clung to the mouth from her lips. 

Overnight, she’d gotten accustomed to him being present, but not _there_ , his consciousness lost in fever haze. Now, he was awake and alert, and his awareness pinged off her own like two transceivers with their signals crossed. She didn’t want to think about what he felt like against her, in his sleep, not with his eyes resting heavy as a handprint on her face, watchful and searching.

“I’m going to go check the vaporators,” she finally said, when the silence had stretched to the point of strain. “Don’t...don’t go anywhere.”

He huffed a slight laugh at that, shifting on the platform and laying back again with another faint wince. 

His voice caught her at the door before she could escape, hesitant with a mingling of humor and disbelief. “There were lizards?”

A laugh escaped her, chasing a bit of the tension from her shoulders. She shot him a crooked smile. “I can’t blame them. You’re warmer than a hole in the ground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept feeling obliged to try to work more dramatic fever dreaming into this chapter, but it felt done and the amount of closeness and intimacy I needed to establish to move forward was already there, perfectly organic, without forcing it. Sorry I kept it from you for so long!
> 
> That last line struck me as weird and jarring when it first decided to write itself, but it's grown on me as a Jyn-ism.
> 
> For reference, since the lizards have sort of become a running gag now, this is what they look like: http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Profogg


End file.
